Red Threads
by White Kit Rose
Summary: “When you are born, a brilliant red thread is tied to your heart. That thread is drawn out to everyone you will meet in your life it’s tied to them, just as it is to you. The thread will lead you through life to each destination, and each hard time.”
1. Momma's Myth

_Momma had once told me, "When you are born, a brilliant red thread is tied to your heart. That thread is drawn out to everyone you will meet in your life; it's tied to them, just as it is to you. The thread will lead you through life; to each destination, and each hard time."_

_I still try to believe her._


	2. The Parchment's Invitation

_A little song  
__Sung for you  
__Inside this box  
__As old as it is new_

_A little hymn  
__A little desire  
__A little spark  
__To fuel your fire_

_Something tarnished  
__Something rust  
__Something covered  
__By a layer of dust_

_An old hope  
__An old friend  
__An old memory  
__Resting on the stand_

Each word was gently whispered into the air, a frail shard in the silence beyond the sweet music of the box resting in a young girl's hand. She kept her eyes shut tightly, remembering when she had been taught the song first. She had been too young to fully remember it, but being taught again afterwards had brought the faint memories back. They were bittersweet in ending as the music box slowed, straining to finish a few last notes. When it ended, she opened her eyes, watching the music box resentfully. She set it carefully on a bedside table the sat to her right, and dropped herself onto her bed.

Her head hit the pillows and she stared at the ceiling. Her gold-brown hair splayed across the white pillows, and her moonstone pendant fell beside her neck, its silver chain twisting. She sighed lightly, and turned her head towards the bedside table. Her dual-colored eyes focused on two letters placed on top of it. Moving onto her side, the girl took the letters and sat up. The first letter appeared to have come from her friend; a spunky black-haired girl named Kira; who was currently in Spain vacationing. A hopeful smile crossed her lips, and she opened the first letter without a thought. Kira would most definitely provide her with the laughs she needed now.

Kira's letter was filled with small things that made her giggle, little jokes that only they knew. It was a relief to feel happier, to the girl addressed as Calla in the letters. After reading the letter a few times, Calla set it to the side, along with a few silly photos that had been sent in the letter, and picked up the other one. It was slightly odd, with glittering emerald ink drawn delicately onto the envelope, forming her name and address. And house. And room. But there appeared to be no stamp, or postmark. She dropped the letter abruptly, eyeing it warily. A couple of jabs to the parchment envelope and Calla had deemed it safe to examine. She snatched it back up, turning it in her hands. Upon the back was a wax seal with a detailed crest of something. It was shaped with a shield, sectioned into four. There was an animal placed upon each section, surrounding the letter 'H'. She didn't recognize the crest though.

She waited another moment, as if expecting some sort of invitation or explosion to come from the letter. She slid her finger under the seal, opening it up. A few slips of parchment fluttered onto her bed. The first bit of parchment had a fancy heading in black ink reading '_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_'.

"Witchcraft and Wizardry? Is Kira playing a prank?" Calla asked, her voice thick with an obvious Irish accent. She quirked an eyebrow, continuing to read, wondering just how elaborate this joke was supposed to be.

'_Dear Miss Pacha,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31. _

_Yours Sincerely,_'

"Dad…?" Calla stood slowly, the parchment held tightly in her hand. She strode to the door unsurely, opening it. She walked into the hallway outside her bedroom and down the stairs that led to the den her farther would most likely be in.

As was to be expected, Calla's father was sitting in the den on their old burgundy sofa. His hair was cropped short, a chestnut brown color with specks of grey and slightly balding, while oval-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose and cool grey eyes watched the news that their television was spouting.

"Dad?" Calla piped up over the T.V. a bit, hoping to catch her father's attention.

"Hm?" He turned his head, pushing his glasses up with a finger. Calla held up the parchment, moving closer so he could see it better. She watched as he scanned over the paper, reading a few lines. Upon finishing he grimaced.

"What? What is it? Do yeh think Kira is playing some sort of joke?"

"No, Calla. I don't believe this is any sort of joke…" His voice was deep, laced with a gentle tone, the Irish accent evident as well. "Honey, well; please sit down." Calla's eyes reflected worry as she sat down beside him. She set the letter to the side and watched his face. His expression changed a couple of times and he clicked off the television. "I want to be truthful with you so…I'll tell you bluntly." He paused, carefully watching his daughter's curiosity spring into her eyes. "Your mother…Your mother an' I…are of a magical bloodline that extends well back."

Calla's face paled, but she managed to stutter a bit, "Tha'-tha' would mean…I-I would be… one... too…Yer kidding, right? Please?" She pleaded. He shook his head.

"No, I'm not; you're of pure blood. Both of our families were purebloods. In turn, you've inherited that as well. I'm so very sorry you didn't know any of this sooner." His eyes were caring, truly meaning every word he said.

"How come I didn't know before!" She snapped, not really meaning to. She was nervous, and a bit upset.

"We didn't tell you sooner because we wanted you to live a simple life, or as simple as you could. We wanted it to be normal for you. Your mother and I were going to tell you a few years ago…She was so excited to teach you when you were old enough. But since it didn't turn out the way we had planned, I postponed it. I could bear to think about explaining a new way of life to you alone."

"Oh." She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, just like every other time it came to speaking about her mother. "Mum wanted me to be one then?"

"Yes. She did very much. Before we moved, you would have been attending the same school as we did. But I've heard wonderful things about Hogwarts, really." He smiled sadly, wanting her to understand better.

"I'll be going then? Whether I want to or not?"

"We're to find an owl as soon as possible. But we can wait a few days if you'd like to think a little more first." Calla's eyes welled up with tears that threatened to stream down her cheeks. She bit her lip and took a hold of her father's left arm, clinging to it.

"Dad!" Calla whimpered, "You're kidding? Please tell me you're joking! I don't want to go! I can't! Please!" Her father gave her a sorrowful look, and put a hand onto her shoulder.

"No, I can't tell you that. It wouldn't be truthful."

"B-but! Wizards an' witches aren't-can't really be around us! They can't!"

"Calla, please tell me how you think the unexplainable events can be explained? The times we've made it through? I'm sure you have even used minute amounts of magic without realizing it. Please believe me; for your sake, for your mother's sake?" Calla fought back glaring at her father, and settled for letting her cheeks be stained with salty tears.

"It's going to be just like here, isn't it? Isn't it? I-I don't even know anything! Dad, I can't go!"

"Trust me, just please trust me. It'll be best if you go. You may not see it right now-"

"I don't want to see it later! I want to see it now!"

"Calla!" Her father's voice was firm, it was a hushing command, but not harsh. She closed her mouth quickly, not daring argue again. There was no use in it but wasting breath. Mentally, she still sulked, arguing within her thoughts. "I will answer you anything you ask, I will tell you 'why', I'll show you photos, proof, just cooperate with me. It's not as simple as it seems for me either. Remember, I have to send you away; I have to teach you what you need." She hung her head, beginning to feel the argument in her mind quiet in favor of the guilt that was seeping in instead.

"Why then? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you raise me like one?"

Her father began telling the reasons why Calla had been raised the way she was, and just how important this school was. It lasted a long time, being spread into topics regarding her mother, her family, old friends and homes, new prospects, anything that was to be thought of during their talks. Calla sobbed, and smiled, wished and worried, snapped and listened, sat and stood. Their conversation took a great deal of emotional toll on the both of them and it hadn't seemed long before her father had bidden her to bed, reassuring her again of the future.

After Calla had said goodnight, she trudged up the stairs leading to the hallway outside her room. She had left the parchment letters on the couch, almost forgotten until the morning. She closed her door tiredly and changed into her nightclothes. Lying under the blankets draped across her bed, she stared at the inky sky outside her window, an indication of just how late it had become. Her eyes were absentmindedly drawn from one star to another, settling on the moon moments later. She faintly wondered why the moon drew so much attention to itself, being the brightest light in the black of the sky.

It never really drew the stars to it, they remained dimmer and out of reach, but it beckoned the attention of the entire waking world. Or so it seemed. It was a thought that entertained her yet naïve mind. In another part of her mind, she wondered about the old myth she had been told. If it was true, then she really was where she was supposed to be.

She wished to see her mother again. She would listen to the stuttering thoughts as Calla began to close her eyes. It was almost a wish in vain, had it not been for the photograph of a young woman on her bedside. In the dark of her room, the photo's true colors were tougher to make out, but still visible.

The woman had soft golden-brown hair, silkily falling across her shoulder, and vibrant icy blue eyes. She had a youthful smile, an appetite for life. It could be seen in her eyes. Calla smiled back at the photo, and shut her eyes tightly. A few tears slid down her cheek, but she fell asleep quickly.

One could only attempt to fathom the dreams that pursued the exhausted girl this night.

* * *

**A/N**: Alright. Re-read, re-tweaked, re-written, added on. I didn't feel as if this chapter was long enough, nor detailed enough in some areas, so I took it down an' re-worked it. Please read this chapter again, as a few things have changed an' been added/removed. I'm still unsure as to when I'll be posting the second chapter. I'll be trying to get it an' following chapters up soon. Thankfully, this'll probably be my only chaptered story for awhile, so it'll get most of my attention. Keep an eye out! Thanks in advance for everything you guys!

WKR

**Disclaimer**: I do not own, nor claim to own Harry Potter and related materials. I do however own the character(s)/idea(s) of Calla and family.


	3. Shops and Students

The next morning, Calla refused to open her eyes. She could feel the morning sun peering through her window, but tried to ignore it. The night before had been so much of a shock that it couldn't be real. She just wanted to go back to sleep for the time she had before her schooling began. Schooling that she didn't want to imagine; witch or not.

She rolled onto her stomach carefully opening her eyes to avoid the bright light coming from the East. With her eyes half-open she stared groggily at the wall in front of her. She incoherently muttered something to herself, making it sound more like a growl than an actual sentence. After another few minutes she reluctantly pushed herself into a sitting position, the blankets crumpling around her waist. She slid her legs over to the side of her bed and stood. She had glimpsed the letter from Kira, and decided it was time to write back. After she'd woken up more.

Once she had grabbed a pencil from the desk in her room, Calla sat on her bed, pulling a new piece of blank paper towards her. She quickly scribbled a short message to Kira, claiming she had no time to write. She made no mention of the previous night and simply ended the letter with a promise to write more later. Calla made no movement for a couple seconds, contemplating what to do. With a quiet huff, she stood again and moved toward her dresser. She opened a few drawers and pulled out some casual clothing. She brushed through her hair and tied it up afterwards and took the letter from the bedside table.

Like the night before, but without such hurry, Calla shoved open her door to the hallway and descended the stairs. From a table in the hallway of the main floor, she took an envelope and stamp, writing the address Kira had given her onto it. She stuck the stamp in the corner as usual and put the letter inside, sealing the envelope. She passed the coat rack on her way towards the door and didn't even bother to put on slippers as she jogged towards the mailbox, on the balls of her feet so she didn't stay too long on the cool concrete.

She held onto the letter in her hands a few moments longer than necessary, and then slid it into the mailbox. Not waiting to watch the mailman come in a few hours, she jogged back inside, shutting the front door behind her with a thump. She continued her jog into the dining area of the kitchen, on her way past the counters, grabbing a piece of bread and stuffing it inside the toaster. Rounding the dining table, she pulled out a chair and sat down. She wasn't sure how her mood would decide to turn today, and stared at the toaster with a wary eye, daring it to burn the toast. As Calla was concentrating on the electric appliance, her father strode into the room, stifling a loud yawn. He was still wearing pinstriped pajamas.

"How do yeh feel this morning?" He asked passively, careful not to tread on sore subjects.

"I'm not answering." She grumbled, letting her head rest on the table. He sighed.

"Do you want to contact the headmaster yet?"

"No."

"Alright…"

"Just do it."

"Calla, you just told me not to."

"It's going to happen anyway! Why not get it done with!" She had snapped her head up, jolting as the toaster popped, and slipping from her chair. "Oomph!" Her father tried not to say anything as he picked the piece of toast up, nibbling on the edge.

"I'll send the letter later today. We'll get your things in a few days, okay?"

"Dad!" Calla protested, standing up and swiping the toast from his hand, taking a large bite from it, but said nothing in reply to his question.

"Yeh'll be fine. I promise. There are plenty of others that are your age there." He reassured, taking a piece of fruit that had been set on a counter.

"Perfect. It'll be great being teased again. Plus they'll all know everything already! Argh!" Calla's father gave up trying to change her mind, and leaned against the counter, eating the fruit in his hand. Calla, after finishing her breakfast, stormed from the room, and up the stairs from what he could tell. He shook his head, beginning to wonder what the next seven years would bring.

--

The next few days were filled with arguing back and forth, mostly because of Calla's refusal to accept the fact that she was a witch and was attending a school for magic folk. Most times her father gave up after a few lines, realizing just how useless it was to argue with his stubborn daughter. He begged his wife, inside his thoughts, to give their little girl some sense in the matter, but to no avail as always. He let her sulk, praying that it would wear down by the time they had to retrieve her school needs.

--

The morning of their shopping excursion, he greeted Calla as usual, and she muttered in reply. She was still sulking, but nowhere near as badly as she had been earlier. It was a relief that she would be in a better mood today, albeit still a bit sour. She had dressed her normal part, unkempt casual clothing with her hair tied into a rough ponytail, and elbow-length grey gloves. A chain-link bracelet dangled on her left wrist, while the moonstone pendant was around her neck again. Her father had dressed fairly casual as well, dark jeans and a button-up shirt.

He smiled, and motioned her out the front door of the house. The morning was still chilly, so he had taken jackets for them both. He led them along the streets of London, pausing once in awhile to ask where a certain street was, each time smiling back at Calla again. She turned her gaze towards a stray dog in the road, or a bush in someone's yard, ignoring her father. After walking for about half an hour, they reached a black building, a sign hanging from it. Her father stopped in front of it, glancing around. Everyone else around them just passed the building by, as if it hadn't been there. It was a pub, with the sign reading 'The Leaky Cauldron".

"Ah, here we are." He father pointed to the door of the pub.

"It's a…pub…" Calla deadpanned.

"Just trust me Calla." Her father said a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Inside now." He led Calla inside the pub, pleasantly greeting a few wizards who looked up. Calla kept her face turned to the ground, her bangs obscuring her eyes, letting herself be lead to the other side of The Leaky Cauldron and outside again. She looked up, only seeing a brick wall. Beside her, her father pulled something from his pocket, his wand, and paused momentarily, saying something under his breath. He started tapping a few bricks with the tip of his wand, and nodded once he finish. He stepped back a little watching the wall. "There."

To Calla's amazement, the bricks began to form a hole, which widened into an arch, allowing them to pass onto a cobblestone street with people milling about. She felt her hand being taken and again steered into the alley. She couldn't help but to stare at everything around, fancy bottles and metals were sparkling with the morning sun and people of all ages were bustling around, chattering. Some were dressed like her, while others had velvety cloaks and deep-colored robes. Her father had started to dodge around a few people, still holding onto Calla's hand for the moment.

They arrived in front of a large marble building. It said "Gringotts Bank" on the front, and her father nodded.

"I believe I transferred your funds here. Come on then." Calla followed, fascinated with the marble, and soon the goblins that tended to the bank. Her father exchanged words with a goblin at the tall desk, pulling out a key. The goblin directed them to another one, and they were led to what looked like an underground roller coaster. He told them to get in, and climbed over the side. Calla looked at her feet and grabbed her father's arm, holding tightly as the cart started moving. The track below them swerved and dropped a few times, the cart speeding along effortlessly. Once the cart had reached its destination, it stopped abruptly. The goblin got out, taking the key. Calla and her father followed, Calla wobbling dangerously on her feet.

The goblin unlocked a vault door, and it slid open. Inside were a few small piles of bronze, silver, and gold coins. Her father walked inside, taking a few handfuls and putting them into a pouch.

"We're not dreadfully rich, but you'll be fine." Her father commented as he stepped outside of the vault. Calla had been eyeing the coins interestedly as the vault door slid shut again. She nodded, afraid to speak, lest her sickness decided to manifest itself. They all boarded the cart again, to Calla's dismay. It roller-coasted all the way back to the front of the bank, where her father nearly had to lift her from the cart to get her out. He thanked the goblin and walked out through the same doors they had come in through.

Calla gulped the fresh air as they got outside, shaking her head. Her father chuckled while pulling a paper from his pocket.

"First stop, your wand." He looked about for a sign, and then turned that way.

"My wand?" Calla asked, looking at her feet again as they passed a few teenagers.

"Um-hm. You need it for the school years to come."

"Oh. Yeah." Once reaching the shop, her father stepped inside, calling out for the shopkeeper. He appeared from behind a stack of boxes, a few smudges of dust on his cheek.

"Here for a wand are yeh? Alright then." He grinned at Calla, picking up a tape measure and setting it next to her. Her father stepped back a little, allowing a bit of space. The tape measure sprang to life, and Calla gave a startled noise. The old man watched calmly, waiting for the measure to finish its duty. After a few more measurements, the tape fell to the ground and the old man retrieved it. He set it aside, running his index finger along a row of boxes. He pulled a narrow box from the shelf, taking the contents from inside. He held out a piece of long, narrow light wood. "Willow and phoenix feather; eleven inches."

Calla took the wand, "Give it a swing." She did as she was told, swinging the wood. A vivid red and orange flame shot from the tip, leaving a smoking trail behind it. Her father chuckled, while she stared at the tip, wide-eyed. The wand was pulled from her grasp with the old man shaking his head. "No, no, that won't do." He placed the wand back inside the box, setting it aside. He retreated to another row of boxes, deciding to pull another box out. He handed Calla this wand, "Dragon heartstring, yew; ten inches." She swung this wand half-heartedly as green and white sparks shot from the tip. The old man shook his head again, muttering as he plucked the wand from her hand again. His brows knitted together for a moment, and he disappeared behind a stack of boxes. He came out holding another wand with a determined shimmer in his eyes. "Hair of a unicorn, holly; thirteen inches."

She gave the new wand a small swing, watching a flurry of gold and silver sparks explode from the wand tip. They danced around and dissipated as quickly as they had come. Expecting the wand to be pulled from her hand again, she was surprised to hear herself amidst two clapping men. The shopkeeper gingerly took the wand from her hand, placing it in the original box.

"That'll do ye just fine, missy." Her father reached into the pouch of coins, pulling a few gold coins out and giving them to the shopkeeper, taking the box in return. He thanked the old man, and strode from the shop, Calla in tow. He again checked the parchment list, noting the books and other needs for classes.

"We'll get your books, then a few other items for your classes. We'll get your robes last." He spoke, more to himself, but told Calla where to go anyway. Inside the book shop, Calla made sure to keep to her father's side, and keep her bangs covering her eyes. It was a little difficult, as she had to look at the books she was receiving, but she seemed to manage just fine. It was the same way for the cauldron shop, and the Apothecary. Every now and then the chains on her wrist rattled, catching the attention of a few people, which led to Calla ducking behind a stack of something, or her father. The alley only became busier as the morning became the afternoon, and Calla at times could only stand still, feeling uncomfortable under anyone's gaze.

"Dad, how many more shops do we have to go to?" She whimpered.

"Only a few more, we're getting your robes last. Afterwards we could look at some animals if you'd like, perhaps you could have a familiar at school." He suggested, moving into another shop. This one was slightly emptier than the others had been, and Calla risked a glance around. She noticed a boy who was about her age, with wild black hair and wire-rimmed glasses. He was staring out the window of the shop to one across the way, making a comment back to an older woman conversing with the shopkeeper of the store. She looked back down, pretending to be preoccupied with a dust bunny on the floor while her father bought the necessary items.

Once they had finished shopping for her school supplies, it was time to visit what her father had said would be their last stop, the robe shop. Students were crowded in, a buzz among the parents while a few measuring tapes were speeding along. It was almost reminiscent of the wand shop, only with a bit more students. Calla fidgeted with her bracelet, trying to keep it quiet while ignoring the people around her. It took some time before she was able to near the front to get her measurements for robes.

She was instructed to stand on a stool, and a familiar measuring tape was set next to her momentarily before starting to move without help. A fairly tall woman nodded and murmured while watching the tape. She pulled what looked like a length of black fabric, and waited until the tape had fallen, lifeless, before placing the robe over Calla and pinning the fabric with deft fingers. Again it took quiet some time before she was allowed down with the robes, since it "Had to be perfect." according to the woman. She took the robes up to a counter, her father paying for them.

When they got outside of the shop, they both balanced the bags and boxes they were carrying. Calla had decided against getting an animal for now, settling for saying she could get one later. Her feet were a little sore from all the walking they had been doing while exploring the secret alley. A few times her father had stopped to speak with someone, which took up more time. He accepted Calla's decision about the familiar, and started home with her. All her shopping had been accomplished and she'd gotten a glimpse of the world she belonged to.

Calla let her eyes wander over the various shops they passed on their way back. She had ignored most of them in favor of her foul mood, which had lightened considerably since the morning. She lingered on the brooms, and fantastic charms, and on the owls inside a window. It was certainly not what she had expected with the images she had conjured up about the Wizarding World when she had been listening to her father tell her about it a few nights ago. Everything seemed to sparkle with wonder, and a bit of mischief. Calla began to question her thoughts of how the school year might go, still skeptical about a few things, but easing her fear.

They made their way back through the brick wall and the small pub, going home. The only thing left was to buy her train ticket and send her off. She still had a couple weeks before she had to worry about that though, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to wait that long anymore.

* * *

A/N: Augh! This chapter is finally finished! Here you go everyone, hope it wasn't too boring. Sorry for making anyone wait too long, but at least this is faster than I usually go. Hope this is long enough for now, it'll be easier later. Enjoy!

WKR

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Harry Potter and related materials. I do however own the character(s)/idea(s) of Calla and family.


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